


Knickers

by cassieoh_draws (cassieoh), Lurlur



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Art, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Coming In Pants, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Gentle Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Lace Panties, M/M, NSFW Art, Post-Canon, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Underwear, that's the AO3 tag but I need you all to know that I hate the word 'panties'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:15:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27593308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassieoh/pseuds/cassieoh_draws, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurlur/pseuds/Lurlur
Summary: Crowley doesn’t know how a pair of lacy black knickers from his Nanny Ashtoreth days got into his current underwear drawer, nor does he understand why, upon finding them that morning, he’d decided to wear them under his jeans.Aziraphale isn't at all interested in "why".Words by Lurlur, art by Cassieoh
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 259
Collections: Top Aziraphale Recs





	Knickers

Crowley stretches across Aziraphale to snatch at the remote.

“If you try and watch  _ Songs of Praise _ again, I’m leaving you!”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Aziraphale teases, holding the remote even higher.

Crowley lunges, leaning right across Aziraphale’s lap until his fingers are just short of grasping Aziraphale’s wrist. He’s straining closer, almost to his goal, when Aziraphale gasps and runs a fingertip along the strip of exposed skin at the small of his back, right where his shirt is riding up.

“Darling,” he breathes, “what’s this?”

Crowley feels Aziraphale’s finger trace the lacy waistband of his underwear, flirting with dipping under it.

“Just my pants,” Crowley says obtusely.

Aziraphale switches off the TV and drops the remote; apparently, his attention has been diverted and not in a direction that Crowley had anticipated.

Crowley doesn’t know how a pair of lacy black knickers from his Nanny Ashtoreth days got into his current underwear drawer, nor does he understand why, upon finding them that morning, he’d decided to wear them under his jeans.

Aziraphale hums thoughtfully, still trailing his finger up and down the lace hem.

“I think you’d better show me properly,” he says. It isn’t a question.

His cock already half-hard in response, Crowley scrambles backwards off the sofa and onto his feet with the grace of a newborn foal. He pulls his shirt over his head with one hand, dropping it carelessly to the floor and reaching for his belt buckle.

“Slower, Crowley. Don’t be in such a rush!”

Swallowing thickly, Crowley wills his hands to obey and calms his frantic fingers as they tug open his belt. He’s far too self-conscious to attempt anything remotely seductive, so Crowley just wriggles out of his jeans and pulls off his socks before kicking the whole lot aside.

His erection is pressed up and to one side under the black lace, bulging obscenely and somehow more suggestive than if he were fully naked.

“Happy now?” Crowley asks, trying and failing to disguise how affected he is with a sharp tone.

“Incandescently,” Aziraphale beams. “You do look delicious.”

Crowley blushes from his ears down to his chest, looking down at his feet and folding his arms around himself.

“You always think that,” he protests.

Aziraphale scrunches his nose in rebuttal and holds his hands out towards Crowley, encouraging him to come closer whilst shifting to sit on the edge of the sofa. Weak as ever to Aziraphale’s wishes, Crowley steps into the space between Aziraphale’s knees and takes a loose hold of his hands.

“Beautiful. Breathtaking.” Aziraphale presses a kiss to Crowley’s abdomen between each word. “ _ Mine _ .”

“Yours,” Crowley agrees.

Aziraphale’s mouth moves lower, his lips grazing the top of Crowley’s knickers. His breath is hot on Crowley’s stiff cock, both a tease and a promise. Dropping Crowley’s hands, Aziraphale takes hold of his hips and presses wet, open kisses to his lace-covered erection. Looking down, Crowley can see the shine of saliva soaked along the line of his cock where Aziraphale has kissed it. He doesn’t dare make a sound, he knows not to disturb Aziraphale during a meal.

Presently, Aziraphale leans back to look Crowley up and down. It’s objectifying in a way Crowley enjoys. His cock twitches, getting impossibly harder from the attention.

“Don’t you look divine like this? What a treat you are.” Aziraphale’s words are loud enough to be heard, but Crowley knows he’s not being addressed. “A change of scenery, perhaps.”

Aziraphale raises his hand with his fingers poised to snap. Crowley has just enough blood left in his brain to grab onto Aziraphale’s shoulders before they are transported to the bedroom.

The air displaces around them, leaving Aziraphale sitting on the bed and Crowley holding himself up by Aziraphale’s shoulders. Before Crowley can find his feet again, Aziraphale stands and turns him by his hips until he’s facing the full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door.

“Look at yourself, you gorgeous thing,” Aziraphale says, hooking his chin over Crowley’s shoulder and making eye contact with him in the mirror.

A hand strokes down Crowley’s side to his hip and toys with the band of fabric that’s stretched taut over it. Crowley looks for as long as he can stand before dropping his head back onto Aziraphale’s shoulder and closing his eyes.

“I should make a mess of your pretty knickers,” Aziraphale says, low and sultry. Crowley shivers in response, starting at the base of his skull and flowing right down to his toes.

Aziraphale makes several movements at once, a coordinated capture of Crowley’s body. One hand covers Crowley’s cock with firm pressure as the other grips Crowley’s hip and digs in. Simultaneously, he licks a stripe up Crowley’s neck ending with a nip at his earlobe. Crowley can’t help but whimper at the onslaught, caught between Aziraphale’s hands and the heat of his body from behind. Automatically, he presses into Aziraphale’s palm, rubbing himself against the offered surface.

“That’s it,” Aziraphale growls, “take your pleasure, watch yourself.”

Lifting his head, Crowley whines and reaches over his shoulder to grasp at the back of Aziraphale’s neck, pulling and pushing to get more pressure on his cock as he rocks his hips.

Aziraphale grinds the heel of his hand into Crowley’s erection, letting Crowley set the pace and take his pleasure, watching the undulations of his body in the mirror. There’s a steady stream of filth from Aziraphale’s lips that makes Crowley rut harder into his hand, and the solid press of Aziraphale’s erection against his buttocks is maddening.

“Oh fuck, I’m close.” Pleasure coils hot and heavy in Crowley’s gut as his movements grow erratic.

He comes with a drawn-out groan and Aziraphale’s lips against his throat.

Pulling his hand away, Aziraphale reveals the shiny patch of wet lace, soaked with Crowley’s spend.

“Messy thing,” Aziraphale says, wiping his hand on Crowley’s thigh. “Wear that for the rest of the day for me.”

Crowley’s legs tremble beneath him at the thought.

“Yes, angel.”

  
  



End file.
